For Now
by RubyBelle
Summary: He had left first. He had saved every bit.


**disclaimer! **NOT MINE. We've been over this, guys, really.  
**contents:** sorta one-sided Russia/Lithuania angsting. human names, because i felt like it.  
**a/n:** this was SUPPOSED to be for Russia's birthday, but i didn't post it here on time, so i just decided to wait until his christmas instead. :3 enjoy? (also. i totally bullshitted the politics down there, srsly. i hope it makes sense. D: )

**For Now

* * *

**

He had left him first.

Out of all the countries he had taken care of, all of the countries he had invaded and controlled, all the countries that had changed their national statements and banners to match with his, Toris knew, he was the first one to have left.

He had seen Ivan grow through the ages, despite being younger than him. He could remember from his earlier years, watching as his neighbor country destroyed and establish many regimes. Toris had grown much faster and stronger than Ivan had, rapidly seizing land and claiming control of Europe, even joining with Feliks to fasten the process further. Ivan had decided to slowly grow, to receive what was best for him and wait until no one had noticed before swiftly making the decision to demolish and confiscate other's hardships, to gain power from overthrowing those who had bothered him. Toris could remember watching him, the weaker yet larger country, and thinking how he could cause many problems, how someone as well cared-for by his sisters could very easily ruin them.

And he did. Without second thoughts for other people, for the nations he declared his own and the citizens living in them, he moved across Northern Europe, swallowing countries whole. He thought nothing of relocating millions, killing most of them in terrible famines and harsh working conditions. There was no light in his eyes, no pure smile on his face, nothing to hint towards the kind nation he had once been, the empire that had dreams of only pleasing people and to hold a safe place for those who were tired of the pillaging and detriment. He had even taken Toris, after ripping Feliks apart and claiming his brothers. Nothing seemed to touch him, and Toris definitely wasn't about to count.

So he had left first. When the war had ended and the brutal Cold War had started between Ivan and Alfred, Toris could not bring himself to continue working, to continue watching his people struggle to please Ivan, even _after_ the worst of his leaders had fallen. So he stood up, declared that he was still a nation, dammit, that he shouldn't have to hurt his people and should have a right to control his _own_ national assets, then left.

Ivan hadn't taken that well. Not at all. Toris flinches when he remembers the harsh words, the ruthless gestures, the furious looks and the malicious ravishing of his body. But, yet, he had allowed it to happen. All too quickly, he was falling apart. At the realization that Ivan wasn't going to hold onto them forever, his brothers and his sisters left, fleeing when he wasn't looking. His power was diminishing every passing second and then Alfred had won.

And it terrified him. It terrified Toris to know that he had left first, he had started the deterioration of what was one of the strongest superpowers in the world. That Ivan was alone again, and he was to blame.

He tried not to worry about it, at all. Feliks would laugh and joke with him, make him forget about it, and his brothers were there for him to talk about inconsequential things with. It wasn't his fault, he would think determinedly. The world was being wasted away, and he only did what was best. Ivan had devastated him, with whips and words, with hatred and hostility. If he had decided to stay, it would've been ridiculous. He did what was best, and he could not worry about anything else, he could not focus on whatever hurt Ivan's glacial heart possibly might've felt.

~*~*~

He had saved every bit of it.

All the scraps of paper, all the pictures, all the sheets and blankets from the nights that were too much, Ivan thought quietly, he had saved them. They were folded carefully and secured safely in desks, closets, pockets, anywhere that Ivan may want to escape to.

Toris mattered so much to him, but he would never recognize that, even if Ivan held on to this odd habit and cherish every bit of proof that he had spent a portion of his long, long life with him forever. From the informal documents and memos sent between them to the blood-stained clothes used diligently and charily on each other's backs after a ghastly day of fighting, they were all still in his house. He would not let go, ever. The pictures of them, all of them horrible formal affairs, contrasting sharply with Toris' casual shots with his brothers and childhood friend, were always kept in his desk, right on top of the stacks of hand-written letters to each other, Toris' flowing script much more esteemed than Ivan's own dark, thick slant.

But not all of the items he saved were loving in any way. Most of them, in fact, were not. Many letters filled with carefully worded rage to Ivan's laws and regulations, mattresses stained with blood and more viscous fluids from Ivan's education sessions. So many things were simply reminiscent of how Ivan had ruled over him, and how Toris had hated it so.

But Ivan kept them, still. The one or two items that were given with no ill will were all in his room, kept in his dresser, an entire drawer emptied for them. The first and best item was a flower booklet, filled with beautiful visions of Toris' house, glossy pictures of his blooming national flower and bigger, brighter flora, with colorful petals that called for attention and attracted the bees and Ivan. It was handed to him casually, is if it was a second thought, and it was all Ivan could do to not run to his room that moment, clear out the bottom drawer and set it down tenderly—as if any austerity would instantly destroy it—and then adore it, love each page and picture and the memory of Toris giving it to him _by hand_. Other items were along those lines, folded sheets of paper with kind reminders and his old jacket, the one he had handed to Ivan, thinking it would sewn up and handed back. Of course, he hadn't, but had instead bought a new one for Toris, saving the old tattered one as preciously as he could.

All of the memories were so treasured. Even the ones with his terrified face, his cold words, his reluctance. Ivan loved them all, every memory of Toris and his presence. No one else mattered as much, and no one else hated him as much. It was a dreadful conundrum, but Ivan didn't mind. The less Toris cared, the less he knew, and the less he knew, the more Ivan could obsess.

~*~*~

"...And, with this new policy, the prices on petroleum should lower by the new year."

The formality was stifling Ivan, but he had dealt with it centuries, and he could deal with it now. "Are you sure that this will work the best for all of us? As I am understanding, _Sestra_ Katyusha will be held out on many new imports and I will not receive much until spring."

Toris set the thick informational packet of the new policy on the table, then turned to look at Ivan, watching his jaw, not his eyes. "It is my aim for the best of all of Northern Europe, and this is the only thing I can accept. _Dama_ Katyusha will be fine through her connection with Finland and I am sure you will find a way to hold on until spring arrives," He did not dare mention how he had managed to do so before, with his own people. "Besides, prices are becoming outrageous and my people are struggling to pay their taxes."

Ivan wasn't leaning back in his seat out of courtesy, but did so now, watching Toris ignore his eyes. "Then that is their own fault, _da_?" he asked, wondering how on earth he was managing to breathe in a place like this. "Perhaps you will raise national salaries and improve your qualities of exports for a lower tax range?"

He wanted to yell, to tell him that wasn't how it worked, how no one would buy from him anymore, but Toris stayed calm, reaching forward for his cup of ice water. "I doubt my people would jump at the chance of more hard work. They would do so, and do it well, but I would have to deal with many more frequent headaches," _Besides, they aren't _your_ people, blinded by blatant wrongness. They would rebel, they would fight back._

"_Itak_, you would ignore other nation's needs for your own personal gain?" Ivan asked, his voice sugary but devoid. "Is this a policy you and your brothers has made, or one that you aim to work for only yourself?"

Toris stiffened as he brought the cup up to his lips. Every time, he thought. Every time he tried to keep himself composed against Ivan, he always brought up something so hurtful and spiteful, something to shake his core and make him wonder how he was going to survive however long the meeting was going to last. Most of the time, he had learned how to ignore the comments, but he didn't want to now, he didn't want to.

"Sometimes my own personal gain is more important than others," he said, trying to stay dictatorial over his emotions, but still letting some of them seep into his words. "I need to worry about myself, not others. Or else I might make a wrong move and hurt more than just _my_ citizens."

"But sometimes you may gain more from others," Ivan tried to counter, tried to say nicely and snidely. "Sometimes you do not have to leave but instead stay, for more than just you."

The cup slammed down on the table as Toris screamed in his mind to keep his cool, for the love of God, keep his cool. Ivan couldn't see him like he was now, he shouldn't and wouldn't. Keep his cool. "Sometimes I don't want to keep on living the way I am! Sometimes we have to leave people!"

"Sometimes I do not want to see people leave," His voice was so soft and childish that it would've been terrifying had Toris not heard the desolation there. Ivan was looking at his hands now, gloved and in his lap, lying limply and lightly. "Sometimes I want to make them stay close me."

He reached for his suitcase and jacket, putting them both on him swiftly, emotionlessly. Toris stayed quiet and he did so, trying not to think anymore. The policy would be sorted out later, when Katyusha was there, and when Ivan had a proper opinion. Toris would not deal with him now, because he did not want to agonize later. He had dealt with him in this state before, and each time he had gone back to his bed in a ruined state, crying and aching.

"Then you may have to rethink your theories on how to treat people," he said after a long, long moment. "Because people will only stay when they are loved."

And with that, he left the room, biting his cheek and ignoring how Ivan let his head fall to his hands behind him. He wasn't going to turn back and comfort him, he didn't need to fear his rage anymore, nor did he have to worry about his depressions. He was going to leave him again, so that Ivan would walk back to his house in the driving snow, limp to his room and sting for Toris again. And Ivan would let him go, because if Toris ever knew, he would run further away than before, and that would make him feel much more lonelier than now.

For now, he was fine.

For now, he could manage.


End file.
